


word is on the street that the fire in your heart is out

by kalopsia (girltalk)



Category: Winner (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Break Up, Gen, M/M, OT5 Friendship, POV Multiple, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 10:12:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4175946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girltalk/pseuds/kalopsia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jinwoo doesn’t think it’s that awkward, going on a two-day road trip with your ex-boyfriend. Everyone else in the car might be inclined to disagree.</p>
            </blockquote>





	word is on the street that the fire in your heart is out

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted [here](http://winnerexchange.livejournal.com/8402.html) for [winnerexchange](http://vvipforseungri.livejournal.com</a>%20as%20part%20of%20<a%20href=)
> 
> lj mirror [here](http://kalopsia.livejournal.com/10756.html)

**DAY 3 — 12:06AM: SEUNGHOON**  
  
  
“Floral scent?” Jinwoo says, scrunching his nose and pulling the collar of his hoodie to take a sniff. It takes all of Seunghoon’s self-restraint, and then the pleading look Seungyoon sends his way, to keep his mouth shut.  
  
“It’s more… citrus-y than floral,” Seunghoon offers.  
  
Jinwoo twists his lips, contemplating, before shrugging with a small, "Hm, I guess."  
  
Taehyun isn’t as convinced. He wraps the shock blanket tighter around his shoulders and levels Seungyoon with a look so flat, it could iron out the worst wrinkles with its intensity. Seunghoon can feel it in his toes that this is about to go somewhere no one wants it to, and looks around desperately to try and see if Minho’s back from his turn at interrogation. Not that Minho can really do anything at this point, but sometimes looking at his dopey face has a therapeutic effect.  
  
“So you’re telling me,” Taehyun starts. “That the reason we’re here is because of Seungyoon’s stupid cru–”  
  
“Are they done with Minho yet?” Jinwoo asks. He shifts to rest his head against Seungyoon’s shoulder, yawning and closing his eyes. “He always asks the fun questions,” he mumbles against Seungyoon’s collarbone. Seunghoon wants to laugh. Scratch that, he does laugh. Loudly. And then dodges the swift kick Seungyoon sends his way.  
  
“Minho is the only person who’d think playing 20 Questions to kill time in between a  _police investigation_  is an appropriate thing to do,” Seungyoon refutes. “Also no, the reason we’re here is because of  _Seunghoon’s_  stupid crush.”  
  
“You’re a child,” Seunghoon scoffs, leaning back against his seat. “With the things me and her have done, it’s love.” Repulsed protests erupt around him, and he grins.  
  
“You know what, I take it back,” Seungyoon says, grimacing. “Let’s play 20 Questions instead. Let’s talk about anything else instead.”  
  
“How did this weekend go so wrong,” Taehyun groans.  
  
“Next question,” Seunghoon dismisses.  
  
Taehyun thins his lips. “Fine,” he enunciates. He turns to face Jinwoo, eyes flittering towards Seungyoon as he asks, carefully and deliberately, “Tell me, was it awkward, going on a two day road trip with your ex-boyfriend?”  
  
Jinwoo raises an eyebrow and smiles bemusedly. “Of course not,” he answers, shifting himself away from Seungyoon to stretch his arms out. “Me and Minho are great.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**DAY 1 — 03:00AM: SEUNGYOON**  
  
  
The thing about Seunghoon is, although his actual methods of persuasion only go as far as refusing to let go of Seungyoon’s leg when he's late for class, there’s still something to be said about his persistency. The thing about Seungyoon is, he has no problems shutting down stupid ideas on first go, but he’s easy to wear down if you know how. Seunghoon doesn’t know how yet, evidently, if the personalised sticker spam on Kakaotalk is anything to go by, but he’s creative.  
  
But whether it’s creativity or lunacy that’s tapping on Seungyoon’s window at 3AM in the morning, that’s up for debate.  
  
Seungyoon should probably leave Seunghoon out there to freeze. But his phone says it’s inching towards minus 5 degrees tonight, and Seunghoon is the kind of person who’d wait outside until he’s dead from hypothermia, or being dragged away by security. Plus, Seungyoon is prepared and might as well have some fun. He’s wearing the demonic Pikachu mask Seunghoon is  _terrified_  of when he approaches the window, and lets out the most horrifying scream he can muster when he pulls up the blinds.  
  
Seungyoon doesn’t have to try with the second scream that rips through him. He only just stops himself from falling backwards by grabbing onto the curtain cord and letting the blinds drop down dramatically. He takes a few seconds to collect himself, and curse Seunghoon under his breath, before drawing the blinds back up again to unveil Jinwoo instead pulling at the edge of the window frame, not having registered that you can’t actually open it from the outside.  
  
Seungyoon motions for Jinwoo to move back before unlocking the latch on the window and lifting it up, letting the chilly air and slight floral scent Jinwoo always seems to carry around him hit his face.  
  
“Let me in,” Jinwoo whispers, mouth quirking upwards.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**-1 DAY — 02:00PM: SEUNGYOON**  
  
  
“Definitely not,” Seungyoon says, flipping through his notebook. Seunghoon, without embarrassment, takes a seat next to Seungyoon in the lecture theatre and starts pulling out books from his backpack like he’s actually in this class.  
  
“Seungyoon,” Seunghoon demands. “Where’s your sense of righteousness?”  
  
“With your sense of shame,” Seungyoon bites back. “You’re crazy, you can’t spring this on me one day before and expect me to agree.”  
  
“I have been  _floating_ , Seungyoon,” Seunghoon argues. “I’ve been floating, and I only realised this morning that if I have the ability to fix this– to get her back, and I don’t. Then well, I deserve to float.”  
  
“Nothing you’re saying has the impact I feel like you think it does,” Seungyoon replies apathetically. The lecturer walks in at that moment, tapping her hand on the podium and calling for everyone to quieten down. Seunghoon huffs and sits back in his seat.  
  
“Hey, give me your notes,” he says.  
  
“What?” Seungyoon sputters. “You aren’t even in this class, you don’t need my notes–”  
  
Seunghoon ignores him and grabs his binder, pulling out the first few pages he sees before shoving the thing back towards Seungyoon again, who only just stops it from knocking into the laptop of the girl sitting next to him. A total of fifteen minutes of uninterrupted focus go by before there’s a scrunched up paper ball being thrown at Seungyoon’s head. Seungyoon turns to glare at Seunghoon, who’s staring straight ahead at the blackboard, nodding like serial composition has never made so much sense to him before– or like he can actually read sheet music.  
  
Seungyoon rolls his eyes and flattens out the piece of paper.  
  
_I will dress up as Jinwoo and suck your di-_  
  
“Ow!” Seunghoon jolts, a hand coming up to clutch the side of his head.  
  
“Shhh,” the lecturer says from the front, narrowing her eyes at both of them.  
  
Seunghoon rubs the spot that Seungyoon’s pen hit dead on and frowns. “I was just trying to compensate you,” he whispers, “And this is how you treat me.”  
  
“Go leave for the bathroom,” Seungyoon replies, eyes turned towards the front, “And then never come back.”  
  
He isn’t looking at Seunghoon, but he can feel the indignant glare he’s probably sending his way like it burns his skin. Seunghoon packs his bag up quietly, slinging it over his shoulder. Before he leaves he bends down to whisper into Seungyoon’s ear, unnecessarily dramatic as always, “I will break you, Seungyoon. I will stab that arrow into your achilles heel, and it’ll be  _painful_.”  
  
Seungyoon tilts his head to the side and smiles at Seunghoon, popping off the cap of his yellow highlighter. “Don’t let the door hit you on your way out.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**DAY 1 — 05:00AM: JINWOO**  
  
  
Jinwoo knows that nothing about his current circumstance is anything less than self-inflicted.  
  
Still, he can’t help the pinch of resentment when Taehyun immediately calls shotgun and corners Jinwoo into taking the backseat. Seungyoon is the kind of guy who lounges and takes up half the leg space when he sleeps sitting up, and usually Jinwoo wouldn’t care. But currently, this means he’s pressed up closer than he’d like to be against Minho, and with Seungyoon and Taehyun knocked out, and Seunghoon too focused on not missing the right exit, Jinwoo is all too aware that he and Minho are the most conscious ones in the car. And they. Are. Not. Talking.  
  
To be fair, it’s not like there’s anything to really talk about right now. Even by highway standards, this one’s pretty boring. No scenery to speak of, just a long stretch of dirt flushed gradient blue in the twilight. So vast and barren it’s hard to believe that just an hour ago they were parked outside a 24-Hour McDonald’s trying to load Google Maps on limited data. In the end, they’d made do with a few disjointed screenshots, and an americano to keep Seunghoon awake until they could swap drivers.  
  
The last time Jinwoo properly slept was around three weeks ago. Seunghoon had called him at midnight, and maybe it says something that Jinwoo sat there for two whole minutes, staring at the TV playing Running Man on mute, and couldn’t think of one reason to say no to an impromptu two day road trip ( _”Rescue mission,”_  Seunghoon’s voice had insisted through the speaker). He’d stayed in the city hoping to find a job with the dismal GPA his Computer Science degree had left him with, and had zero lined up. He was avoiding talking to his parents, so what was a little loss of reception here and there. Seunghoon knew this better than anyone else, and that’s why neither of them were surprised when Jinwoo said yes all too agreeably.  
  
Jinwoo can take a pretty good guess as to why Minho is awake, if the tapping on his phone and the concentrated lip synching is anything to go off. Jinwoo’s only seen him do it so many times in stifling, overcrowded clubs. Jinwoo's thumbs rubbing circles onto Minho’s shoulder blades. Watching Minho size up the competition on stage with an earnestness he wished he was more intimately familiar with.  
  
“Do you want me to drive?” Jinwoo offers, leaning forward and resting his arms on the back of Seunghoon’s seat.  
  
“No, it’s fine,” Seunghoon says. His left eye twitches, and he reaches a hand towards the drink holder to grapple for his coffee. Instead, he grabs Taehyun’s phone and holds it up to his lips. It takes a few seconds for Seunghoon to blink and put the phone back down. "Actually, you know what," he says. "Maybe you should drive."  
  
Seunghoon turns the wheel to pull off the highway when Minho yells. “Wait, no!”  
  
Seunghoon swerves sharply back into his lane, and the momentum has Taehyun’s head bumping onto the glass, and Jinwoo careening onto Seungyoon’s lap.  
  
“Oof,” Seungyoon says, jolting awake. His knees dig sharply into the middle of Jinwoo's spine.  
  
Jinwoo groans and arches his back to relieve some of the pain. When he opens one eye, Seungyoon is looking down at him, blinking rapidly and slapping his hands across his face in turn. “You awake now?” Jinwoo asks, grabbing a hand mid-slap and curling it into a fist to knock against Seungyoon’s head.  
  
Taehyun grimaces and turns to Seunghoon. “Is this why you tried to crash the car?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Seunghoon replies, chest heaving, eyes not leaving the road ahead. “Minho, why did I almost crash the car?”  
  
“So Jinwoo wouldn’t almost crash the car,” Minho replies, a little petulantly. A small pout on his lips that Jinwoo almost instinctively leans forward to kiss away.  
  
“I would not!” Jinwoo protests, trying to lift himself up but sinking further into the space between Seungyoon’s legs.  
  
“Jinwoo, how are you real,” Taehyun sighs, climbing onto his seat to lean over and help pull Jinwoo upright. Seungyoon has a hand on Jinwoo’s back, and Minho pulls him up by the shoulder. Jinwoo shrugs all their hands off to slouch low against his unfortunate middle seat.  
  
It wasn’t a bad breakup, really. Just an unfortunate one.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**-17 DAYS — 10:20PM: MINHO**  
  
  
Minho remembers Danah telling him  _“Treat a date how you would be wanted to be treated, Minho, alright. It’s not about being a gentleman or whatever, it’s about being considerate.”_. Back home from a bad date, she’d sat on Minho’s bed, feet up on his lap, listing off with her fingers all the ways her date that night had been terrible, and everything Minho should do to not be the guy whose number was deleted from Dana’s phone as soon as his car was out of sight. Don’t pay for them without making sure they aren’t prepared to cover it themselves, if they look bored then they probably are bored, don’t act like they’re a burden to have around. Minho had listened carefully, nodding along before asking, “This will definitely get them to put out right?”. Danah had tried to scratch his chin with her toenails, and then squirmed when Minho tickled the underside of her feet.  
  
Minho always goes back to that night as his go-to guidebook. Not that what Danah told him wasn’t basically common sense, but Minho is the type to get caught up in things. Sometimes it takes looking into his drink and seeing Danah’s disapproving face reflected back at him, shaking her head, for Minho to take look around.  
  
This is how he notices how quiet Jinwoo is.  
  
Jinwoo’s not much of a speaker anyway, but he talks through how he moves. Mirthful nods, small sounds of engagement, leaning into Minho’s space whenever he's feeling a little fatigued. Sometimes, if they’re with a lot of people they don’t know, he rubs his foot against Minho’s where no one can see. Today he’s staring down at the table, eyes occasionally drifting to the phone he’s clutching in his hands. Minho pats Pyo on the shoulder and gestures towards the door.  
  
“Hey,” Minho says, nudging Jinwoo’s shoulder. Jinwoo starts, hand coming up to grab Minho’s like he’s bracing himself for the worst. “Let’s leave, it’s getting late.” Jinwoo purses his lips for a few seconds, before nodding and pulling on his coat, following Minho outside.  
  
Minho stops once they’re at his car, grabbing Jinwoo by the arm and gently pulling him under a streetlamp. He looks distracted, fingers pulling at the material of his gloves. Minho reaches out to take Jinwoo’s hands in his own, holding them still. “Everything okay?” he asks.  
  
JInwoo blows out a puff of air. “I… I’m not. I’m worried about finding a job.”  
  
Minho blinks and takes a step back. He holds Jinwoo away by the shoulders and squints at his face. “Is that it?”  
  
Jinwoo doesn’t get angry easily, but Minho knows he’s tiptoed into that side of the spectrum from the crease on Jinwoo’s forehead, and tries to amend it with “No, I mean. That really sucks. I just mean like– did they say something wrong this time, you seem really upset. I’ll,” Minho shifts his voice to a comically low pitch, “I’ll beat ‘em up.”  
  
Stupid voices usually make Jinwoo laugh, but now he looks at Minho like he’s the one who turned him down for the job. “No, I don’t want you and your friends to beat them up–”  
  
“Jinwoo,” Minho cuts off sharply, “I’m joking, when have I ever–”  
  
“I know you’re  _joking_ ,” Jinwoo says. “But that’s what I mean, I don’t want that. I want a job.”  
  
“I mean,” Minho searches for the words desperately. He’s downright fucking awful at containing potentially explosive situations– more often than not he just makes them worse. Which is precisely why he does his goddamn best trying to make sure things never get there in the first place. “Do you want me to  _get_  you a job?”  
  
“Didn’t you want me to move in with you?” Jinwoo asks, eyebrows locked together.  
  
Minho cups Jinwoo’s face with his hands, tilting his head up. “I still do,” Minho reassures. “What are you even talking about?”  
  
Jinwoo covers Minho’s hands with his own, moving his head to the side so his lips are pressed into Minho’s gloved palm. He stays like that for a minute, before he mumbles out a small. “Okay.”  
  
“I’ll pay the rent for you until you can find a job,” Minho offers.  
  
Jinwoo cocks his head to the side. “Huh?”  
  
“I’ll pay the rent,” Minho repeats. “You don’t have to worry about anything.”  
  
“Since when was underground rapping a lucrative career choice?” Jinwoo laughs. His laugh has always been ugly, but Minho’s always been enamoured with it anyway. Right now though, with it's jagged edge and condescending lilt, it makes Minho feel small. “You can’t even pay for yourself.”  
  
“I’ll take three jobs,” Minho promises, though he really hopes Jinwoo refuses, because he can’t work that many hours a week and he isn’t so sure of how willing he is to try. “I just don’t want you to worry.”  
  
“I’m always worried,” Jinwoo whispers. It’s said softly but it’s like a slap to the face. Minho recoils.  
  
There it is, the one thing that can calm Jinwoo down, apparently. Guilt. Jinwoo looks apologetic and closes the space between them, gripping Minho’s arms and kissing under his jaw. “That’s not what I meant. I’m worried about other things.”  
  
“Then tell me,” Minho pleads, curling his toes at how childish he probably sounds. He’s never had to worry about that before with Jinwoo. “I want to know.”  
  
Jinwoo sighs. “You can’t fix everything, Minho,” he says. “I’m cold, let’s just get in the car?”  
  
Minho nods eagerly, pulling off his coat and wrapping it around him. “I’m wearing a coat!” Jinwoo protests, tugging at the beige lapel hidden beneath Minho’s large black windbreaker.  
  
“Let me try and fix that at least,” Minho replies. He fumbles with his car keys before pressing the button and unlocking the doors, not looking at Jinwoo as climbs in.  
  
Minho waits until Jinwoo clambers in after him and is settled before sticking the key into ignition. “Let’s go to your place?” Jinwoo asks, sounding unsure.  
  
Minho forces a smile. It’s obvious and takes too long, but he still leans forward to kiss Jinwoo on the cheek. “Of course,” he says.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**DAY 1 — 12:00PM: JINWOO**  
  
  
They stop for gas fifteen minutes later. Partly because they’re not sure when Lady Luck will spring another service station on them, but mostly because they couldn’t tell if the car was shaking along with the loose gravel, or from Seunghoon vibrating in the front seat. Seungyoon takes a twenty minute nap inside the car in preparation for his turn, Seunghoon does small laps to try and exhaust his excess energy, Taehyun lethargically following to poke Seunghoon with a stick when they overlap, and Jinwoo corners Minho in the small washroom behind the service station.  
  
It’s dingy and looks in need of a wash itself, mouldy looking stains on grey tiles which, in all honesty, Jinwoo finds kind of quaint, but he’s probably wrong. Minho is washing his hands in the sink, the muscles in his back tight and baited.  
  
Everything Jinwoo wanted to say dissolves on his tongue into something sticky and heavy that he can’t swallow down. He tries to relax himself by thinking of hypothetical drama castings, except when he blinks away from the idea of Lee Nayoung and Gong Yoo in a Hong Sisters drama, Minho is still staring down at the basin even though Jinwoo realises he stopped hearing water running a while ago.  
  
Jinwoo doesn’t know what to do. He and Minho, it had been easy, more obvious than the resounding crack from Minho hitting that baseball and giving Jinwoo a concussion. Of course Jinwoo would say yes to the good looking, sincerely apologetic guy who kept delivering him flowers in the hospital. Who brought him his laptop so they could watch variety shows together, the distance between them on the hospital bed only the width of their shared earphones. It was easy and obvious, and fun. Bears at carnivals, amusement park anniversaries, mutual friends, and couple items.  
  
This. Cramped bathrooms, tension so heavy and drab that Jinwoo can’t believe he’s on one end of it, isn’t something he’s had to navigate with Minho before.  
  
“You okay?” Minho asks, wiping his hands along his jeans.  
  
“Yeah, just,” Jinwoo clears his throat. “I wanted to drive, why wouldn’t you let me drive? I’m a better driver than you.” He raises a hand to cutely slap Minho’s arm because it seems like the familiar thing to do, but when Minho doesn’t laugh, immediately feels awkward about it.  
  
“You didn’t look like you’d slept,” Minho offers, shrugging. “You know you do that thing where you’re like wide awake one second, and then when I blink you’re snoring?”  
  
“No,” Jinwoo answers. “I mean, I’d be asleep then. So no.”  
  
“Well, take my word for it,” Minho says. ”You do. Now, imagine if instead of on my bed– uh, your bed.”  
  
“No, your bed,” Jinwoo concedes, shrugging.  
  
“Right, my bed.” Minho agrees. “Imagine if it was in front of a wheel.”  
  
Jinwoo doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. When he does, it’s matter-of-fact even though it feels like anything but. “I haven’t been sleeping recently.”  
  
Minho’s entire face falls. “I’m sorry Jinwoo. I–”  
  
Jinwoo shakes his head. “It’s not you, no. I’m just saying I haven’t been sleeping and I’ve had like, two cans of Red Bull. I wouldn’t have fallen asleep at the wheel.”  
  
Minho wraps Jinwoo in a hug. He smells like that overly masculine body spray his roommate Pyo keeps buying in bulk. The one that only Jinwoo seems to like, if the explosion Seunghoon once caused in their dorms from trying to destroy them was anything to go by. He can feel Minho’s hold losing confidence, loosening, and Jinwoo belatedly wraps his arms around Minho. Comfort received. Jinwoo’s always liked feeling protected.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**-44 Days — 04:17PM: SEUNGYOON**  
  
  
Even though Taehyun and Seungyoon’s initial friendship had its roots in slightly more than dubious circumstances – at least if that’s what you want to call compulsory community service – Seungyoon feels like they’ve known each other long enough to be comfortable with the label “good friends” by now. Taehyun doesn’t look like he agrees when he finally leaves the men’s bathroom, but the fact he’s not actively trying to run away is essentially an ‘I love you’ as far as Seungyoon’s concerned.  
  
“An entire hour,” Seungyoon chirps, pushing himself off the wall with his foot and linking Taehyun’s arm in his. “That’s one long bathroom break.”  
  
“Yeah,” Taehyun drawls, “I’ll spare you the details.”  
  
Seungyoon sighs. “You know, Taehyun, I was your age once–”  
  
“Four months ago,” Taehyun mumbles, trying to sneak his arm out of Seungyoon’s grip. Seungyoon holds it tighter against his side.  
  
“You’ve grown so much,” Seungyoon continues, “You’ve come so far from being that bratty 18-year-old I had that meet cute–”  
  
“It wasn’t a meet cute,” Taehyun corrects, “If we were both coerced.”  
  
“I don’t know about you,” Seungyoon says. “But there was no coercion on my side.” It’s only a half-lie, so Seungyoon doesn’t let himself mull over it for too long. Maybe sitting in the waiting room of a counsellor's office with bruised knuckles and an ice pack pressed against one eye wasn’t cute by conventional definition, but Jinwoo had said it was adorable when Seungyoon told him why he suddenly had a surly, droopy faced teenager following him around everywhere. Seunghoon said it was cute too, even if his tone was a little more patronising than Seungyoon would have liked it to be.  
  
It was years ago that Seungyoon had pushed his way through an overexcited throng of students to reach the lanky, messy boy in the middle of a brawl with Seungyoon’s old friends, one that he had no chances of winning had Seungyoon not intervened. Days like today though, Seungyoon thinks it might as well have been just last week.  
  
“I didn’t throw the first punch,” Taehyun says at Seungyoon’s sudden silence. “I didn’t even fight back.”  
  
“I know,” Seungyoon says.  
  
“You don’t have to follow me around,” Taehyun snips. “I’m not going to run off and try and set them on fire.”  
  
“Maybe I just want to spend time with you!” Seungyoon exclaims, pulling their hands down and trying to link fingers with Taehyun, who looks like his real wish was to set himself on fire. “We’re both here, we might as well–”  
  
“Hey, is that Jinwoo?” Taehyun says.  
  
Seungyoon snorts. “Nice try, but–”  
  
“No, I’m being serious,” Taehyun insists, pulling his hand away and manhandling Seungyoon into turning around. “Isn’t that Jinwoo?”  
  
Seungyoon squints, Taehyun immediately lets go and starts running in the other direction, and ordinarily Seungyoon would chase after him, but not right now because that is definitely Jinwoo, waiting at the bus stop in his red KFC uniform, visor pulled low over his forehead. Seungyoon takes out his phone to shoot a quick message to Minho to check up on Taehyun, then makes his way over to where Jinwoo is sitting.  
  
“Hey,” Seungyoon says, swinging himself around the edge of the bus shelter. Jinwoo, for whatever reason, frowns curiously before looking in the complete other direction, and Seungyoon sighs before flinging himself down on the bench to slide right into Jinwoo’s side.  
  
Jinwoo flails and Seungyoon pulls him back by the waist to stop him from sliding off the seat. Jinwoo turns to face him, and when their eyes meet, lets out a long sigh of relief. “Oh, it’s just you.”  
  
“Who else would it be,” Seungyoon prods. “Who’re you running away from now?”  
  
“Your mother,” Jinwoo says solemnly, before cracking a smile. “That was good right–”  
  
“No,” Seungyoon cuts off, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “Still not right.”  
  
“One day,” Jinwoo promises. “One day.”  
  
"Sure." Seungyoon pats Jinwoo’s back. “What are you doing here anyway? You work like, twenty minutes away.” He reaches a hand up to flick the KFC logo on Jinwoo’s visor.  
  
“Ah…” Jinwoo hesitates. “I didn’t feel like going home so I went for a walk, and then I forgot which way I came. So I’m just waiting for a bus back instead.”  
  
Seungyoon lifts himself off the bench to look at the timetable pasted on the side of the bus stop. He drags his fingers down the list of busses and arrival times before turning to Jinwoo and saying: “The buses here all go in the opposite direction.”  
  
“What?” Jinwoo pushes Seungyoon aside to look at the timetable himself. “The lady lied to me!”  
  
Seungyoon throws a hand around Jinwoo’s shoulder, dragging him away from staring betrayed at the map. “Come on, it’s a dangerous world out there Red Riding Hood,” he warns. “Let’s get you back home in one piece.”  
  
“I can’t believe she lied…”  
  
Seungyoon gets an MMS from Minho once they're both on the right bus back to campus. It’s a picture of Taehyun and Minho at a karaoke bar, Taehyun kneeling on the floor dramatically, singing into a microphone, Minho pointing at him with a thumbs up, and an Aqua music video playing in the background. Seungyoon is gratified and is about to make it Taehyun’s contact picture, when Jinwoo leans over his shoulder to look at his phone.  
  
“Cute,” Jinwoo coos, and Seungyoon can feel Jinwoo’s cheek brush against his own when he smiles. “I’m glad they’re both feeling better.” He moves back to grin at Seungyoon, but then his face falls. “What’s that?” he asks, moving closer and pressing his fingers above Seungyoon’s chin. There’s a dull ache and Seungyoon flinches, turning his phone camera on selfie mode and holding it up to his face.  
  
There’s a dull gray-blue blemish under his lip and Seungyoon grimaces. “Aw man,” he says. “I have a thing tomorrow too.”  
  
“Where’d you get that?” Jinwoo pries, hands folding themselves into fists on his lap.  
  
“What?” Seungyoon furrows his eyebrows at the sudden heaviness in Jinwoo’s tone, and notes the worry lines beginning to form on his forehead. “Oh! No, no. Taehyun just– There were these goons at the mall stealing this kid’s wallet, and Taehyun got into like, an argument. Not going to lie, there were punches thrown.” Jinwoo widens his eyes and Seungyoon rushes to explain. “Not by us! By them, mostly towards Taehyun, but I was trying to pull him out of the way and– I think one of them grazed me.”  
  
Jinwoo still looks nervous, but slightly placated. “Goons?” he asks.  
  
“Yeah they were huge, like probably my weight in muscle mass and, okay, they were wearing school uniforms– Don’t laugh!” he says, shoving Jinwoo’s shoulder. “You don’t know high school students these days. They’re huge. Like we’re slowly evolving back to prehistoric times.”  
  
“I’m seeing like, a scrappy past version of you, closing his eyes and just flailing his hands everywhere, and by luck managing to hit this present, slightly less pretentious version of you,” Jinwoo grins.  
  
“Hey, that’s offensive!” Seungyoon yells, indignant. He waits for Jinwoo to stop giggling to himself before adding, “If anything, I’m a lot more pretentious now.” He can’t see the smile that breaks out on his face when Jinwoo bursts out into laughter again, but he prays it doesn’t look as hopelessly smitten as it feels.

 

 

 **DAY 2 — 02:50AM: SEUNGYOON**  
  
  
They drive by two different motels before finally finding one that has a vacancy sign glowing outside. By then it’s almost 3AM, and it isn’t until Seunghoon pushes a rusty key into his hands, and Jinwoo tugs at the edge of his jacket, that Seungyoon realises he sealed his own fate sometime in between stumbling sleepily out of the car and checking in at reception.  
  
Considering the state of their trip so far, the motel room is oddly decent. It’s clean, the decor is plain but homely, and there’s a neatly made queen single in the middle of the room. Jinwoo rests his chin on Seungyoon’s shoulder and hums absently. “Looks like we’re sharing then,” he says, walking around Seungyoon to dump his duffle bag on the small table next to the window.  
  
Just fifteen minutes ago he had been ready to collapse and sleep on the road, but now, on an actual bed with Jinwoo’s warm and soft body pressed into his side, he can’t seem to turn his brain off. He tries counting sheep, keeps losing his place before he manages to reach twenty. He looks up at the ceiling, tries to find a story on it, but whoever cleans this place does a fantastic job and there’s nothing except some places where the beige paint has peeled off.  
  
“This reminds me of high school,” Jinwoo whispers from next to him, his breath brushing across where Seungyoon’s shirt is pulled low enough to reveal a bit of his shoulder.  
  
Seungyoon turns around to face him. “I don’t know what kind of high school  _you_  went to–”  
  
Jinwoo kicks him under the sheets. “No, when  _you_  were in high school, and you kept sleeping over.”  
  
Frankly, it doesn’t remind Seungyoon much of those sleepovers at all. For one, back then Seungyoon would be sleeping on the floor of Jinwoo’s cramped dorm room, despite Jinwoo’s offers to share the tiny bed he owned. For two, Seungyoon was a pimply, flat faced teenager who would spend the night desperately trying to act aloof about the black eye he was sporting, and the morning standing in front of the door to his house, spilling sorrys into his mother's hair while Jinwoo smiled sleepily from behind them. It’s similar to the smile Jinwoo’s giving him right now, except the corners of his mouth are slightly weighed down, and Seungyoon wants to lift them up with his fingertips.  
  
“I guess so,” Seungyoon says instead. “Or maybe you just haven’t had many sleepovers.”  
  
“Also true.” Jinwoo pouts. “I mean there’s you, and Minho, and uh…” It’s too dark to tell, but Seungyoon feels the blankets ruffle and can imagine the embarrassed smile Jinwoo’s hiding in them all too clearly. “I don’t think it’s really appropriate to compare this to the, uh, sleepovers I had with Minho.”  
  
Seungyoon laughs, lets his foot skim Jinwoo’s a little bit under the covers. “Do I need to have a talk with Minho? Do you want me to beat him up for you?”  
  
“Minho is above kicking the ass of one of his friends,” Jinwoo mocks. “Beat me up instead, I deserve it.”  
  
Jinwoo doesn’t do self-depreciating humour, he just self-depreciates. The easy camaraderie between them dulls, and Seungyoon feels Jinwoo’s chest shake, trying hard not to breathe. Seungyoon knows that Jinwoo hasn’t been in the best place recently. What with the recent break up, not being able to find a job, and being so far away from family.  
  
“Hey,” Seungyoon says softly. “There’s a long weekend coming up, okay. We came with Seunghoon on this stupid rescue mission, we can blackmail him and all go together to see your family when it comes.”  
  
Jinwoo swallows and it’s the loudest thing in the room. “My dad’s dying, Seungyoon,” he whispers.  
  
Seungyoon freezes, backdating through four months worth of text messages and phone conversations before pinging onto the ones he’s looking for. “No, he’s not,” he says. “It’s his first heart attack and he’s on a pacemaker now, right? Is he listening to the doctors?”  
  
“God,” Jinwoo says, throwing an arm over his face. “My family can’t afford those hospital visits. They spent so much to send me to college and I’m here living off working 36 hour weeks at KFC.” He falls silent, his breath rattly, and Seungyoon swallows. He's fighting an inner battle with himself whether to reach out or not when Jinwoo speaks again. “I’m not unhappy or anything, don’t get me wrong. Well, I am but– I can’t sleep. I can’t sleep because it feels like I’m wasting time, I can’t stop thinking. You know my dad  _loved_  Minho? Yeah, he adores him–”  
  
Seungyoon creases his forehead. “Jinwoo–”  
  
“–He was the one good thing I had going for me,” Jinwoo continues. “And now that’s gone because he’s going places and I’m fine where I am. I can’t call home, what a depressing phone call.”  
  
Seungyoon waits a few seconds to make sure Jinwoo’s done and then plunges forward. “Your dad is a fisherman,” he reminds him. “Sometimes the weather’s bad, there’s no fish in the sea, or it’s the wrong tide-”  
  
Jinwoo snorts. “That’s not how fishing works.”  
  
“Because you know  _so_  much about fishing?” Seungyoon retorts. “That’s not the point, the point is, he knows more than anyone sometimes it takes a while for things to pick up. That, like, you can be in the middle of the water for days, a bucket full of the best bait around, but sometimes, no one will bite.” Jinwoo doesn’t talk and Seungyoon wonders if he’s drifted off. It doesn’t really make sense to him, for Jinwoo to be so unhappy. It’s wrong, it shouldn’t happen. The light of so many people’s lives shouldn’t be flickering out and dying. “I hate it when you’re sad,” he adds, meaning it more than anything.  
  
Silence, and then, “Were you falling asleep when my dad was giving us those fishing lessons?” Jinwoo teases, pushing Seungyoon away by the chest. Seungyoon retaliates by pushing against him, and it becomes a game to see whether Jinwoo can successfully topple Seungyoon off the bed. “I’m just saying, you should be listening to your elders!” Jinwoo says, as he tries rolling into Seungyoon. Seungyoon attempts lifting Jinwoo up to slide under him, and ends up with Jinwoo landing on his chest with a small, “Umph.”  
  
If this was a movie, there’d be nothing but the sound of the road outside as they drink in each other’s faces. It’s not a movie though, Jinwoo isn’t particularly tactile, but he’s accepting of touch and closeness, and when he looks down at Seungyoon’s face he just laughs. “I’m so tired,” he says, yawning. “I’m gonna fall asleep on top of you.”  
  
_Gladly_ , Seungyoon almost says. But there’s a thump on the walls, which are thin enough for their bed to shake a little because of it.  
  
“If you’re gonna make so much noise,” Taehyun yells. “At least fuck so it’s exciting for the rest of us– Ack, you didn’t have to kick me off the bed!”  
  
“Yes, I did,” Seunghoon’s voice comes through muffled. “That said, I don’t disagree.”  
  
“Why isn’t anyone sleeping?” Minho groans. “Go to sleep, I have to drive tomorrow.”  
  
“Sorry!” Jinwoo yells. He pushes himself off Seungyoon, flopping down next to him on the mattress. It’s come full circle, with them pressed too close to each other and Seungyoon’s head not being able to shut up. But Jinwoo curls his hand into his, relaxed and comfortable, and Seungyoon thinks it might be worth not being able to sleep easy tonight.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**-134 DAYS — 12:47AM: SEUNGHOON**  
  
  
Seungyoon shows up two hours late and Seunghoon, in what is probably a blatant abuse of his newfound power, does not let him in.  
  
“This is unfair,” Seungyoon says, trying to duck under Seunghoon’s arm and failing when Seunghoon shifts to block him. “Why are you even here, where’s the bouncer?”  
  
Better be using the money Seunghoon gave him on something worth it, is what Seunghoon thinks but does not say. “I’m sorry, do you have a reservation?” Seunghoon asks. The line behind Seungyoon is beginning to get restless and there are a few curses sent towards them, but whatever. Any irritation they’re feeling really can’t compare to the vexation that's been building up inside of Seunghoon since the first time Seungyoon fucking Kang decided to flake out on plans that were made a month in advance.  
  
“You’re being ridiculous,” Seungyoon chides, shooting apologetic glances at the people behind him. “I said I’m sorry okay, class got held up.”  
  
“Your class was held up to the point where you couldn’t make an 11pm appointment?” Seunghoon exclaims, slapping a hand over his face. “Wow, you’d think you were majoring in something like biology instead of a future as a high class busker.”  
  
“Low blow,” Seungyoon rebukes. “Look, we’re making a scene, can you just let me in?”  
  
Seunghoon is about to argue that this is not a scene, and if Seungyoon really wants a scene then Seunghoon is more than willing to put their dignity on the line to play up drama when it’s required. Unfortunately, at that moment someone grabs the back of Seunghoon’s shirt to pull him inside the club and the crowd cheers and starts pushing forward insistently. The door is only so big, and it's like a school of sardines trying to squeeze through a hole in a fishing net. As irked at Seungyoon as he is right now, Seunghoon doesn't really want his birthday to be eclipsed by having to mourn Seungyoon’s death. so Seunghoon reaches out a hand to clutch Seungyoon's arm and pull him to safety.  
  
Of course Seunghoon pulls  _too_  roughly, and the momentum sends them both falling over to the ground, Seungyoon’s gross body straddling Seunghoon’s stomach. Seungyoon smiles down at him, mischievous and sly, and sings, “ _Happy Birthday Mr. President_ ,” waggling his eyebrows.  
  
Seunghoon gags and pushes Seungyoon off him.  
  
The party has dwindled down to just five people; Taehyun, Seungyoon, Seunghoon himself, Jaehyung, and Ahyeon. Minho and Jinwoo had left together half an hour ago, a fact that doesn’t go unnoticed by Seungyoon who does a quick sweep of the guests before falling down on one of the loveseats. Jaehyung pours Seungyoon a glass of cheap champagne, but at Seunghoon’s reproachful look, swaps it out for a half empty glass of water.  
  
“Thanks,” Seungyoon deadpans, taking a sip. “Happy fucking birthday, Seunghoon.”  
  
“Actually,” Ahyeon pipes up. “I think Jinwoo drank from that. So really, happy birthday to  _you_.”  
  
Seungyoon slams the drink down on the table and levels Seunghoon with a scowl that would probably be more effective if he didn’t look like an angry cartoon dumpling. Seunghoon looks down and pretends to file his nails with a finger. “They wanted to know why you were so late,” he shrugs.  
  
“Don’t worry,” Jaehyung says, waving a hand. “It’s cute. I mean, it sounds hella fucking awkward but like,” he take a sip of his drink and winks. “Still cute.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**DAY 2 — 11:30AM: SEUNGYOON**  
  
  
Their car breaks down morning of the second day. Seungyoon can’t even pin the blame on Seunghoon like he really wants to, because Seunghoon had originally been parked outside Seungyoon’s dorm in a reasonably sturdy Hyundai Libero. One that had “JY-PIZZERIA” logoed all across the side of it, that Seungyoon had vehemently refused to ride in, not moving from the doorway until Seunghoon returned with what he recognised as Jaehyung’s old Ford that he had been trying, and failing, to sell for the past three months.  
  
“How much did you pay for it?” Seungyoon asks. Seunghoon appreciates it whenever Seungyoon feels bad, so he doesn’t try to mask the guilt. They’re both standing at the edge of the road, thumbs stuck out to the side. Late morning is still morning and Seungyoon has to grit his teeth against the chill, pulling his scarf tighter around his neck and hoping his thumb doesn’t end up blue. Or worse, falling off.  
  
“Nothing,” Seunghoon replies. “I know where Jaehyung keeps his keys,” he admits shamelessly. “He isn’t going to miss it, alright? I had to talk him out of driving it off a bridge and pretending like it was stolen just because he wanted the insurance money.”  
  
Seungyoon coughs.  
  
“He had to talk me out of it,” Seunghoon amends.  
  
Seungyoon sniffs and pulls the sleeve of his skivvy down so it covers all of his fingers except for his thumb.  
  
Seunghoon sighs. “We both had to talk Taehyun out of it.”  
  
“Ah,” Seungyoon says. “Whatever. Doesn’t count as a breach if he doesn’t do it, action not intention.”  
  
“Intention can be pretty strong though,” Seunghoon disagrees. “For example, you never actually broke up Minho and Jinwoo, but through your sheer intention–”  
  
“False! Slander! Lies!” Seungyoon punctuates each exclamation with a jab of his thumb into Seunghoon’s ribs. Seunghoon is joking and he knows that, but as far as jokes go, this one’s pretty mean and hits a little uncomfortably close to home. Not that Seungyoon ever intended to break Jinwoo and Minho up. In fact, it was Seungyoon’s own fault that he had to spend every party standing awkwardly to the side, trying not to look at the arm Minho had snaked around Jinwoo’s waist.  
  
Seungyoon thinks about it a lot. Maybe if he hadn’t asked Taehyun to come with him to Minho’s amateur baseball game, knowing that Taehyun had a propensity to not go through with things once he stopped “feeling it.” Maybe if he hadn’t been running on the thrill of a possibility, and asked Seunghoon to go instead of Jinwoo.  
  
Maybe if Seungyoon had just told Jinwoo when he had been planning to, at the concession stand, as they were walking towards their seats, as Jinwoo leaned over to whisper in his ear that he was going to get snacks. Maybe if Seungyoon had pulled him down to kiss him, gotten up to get the snacks himself, and been the one to get brained by the baseball Minho hit in the wrong direction. Maybe then, he wouldn’t have had to spend every gathering listening to people tell him what a cute couple his friends made.  
  
“You know…” Seunghoon begins. Seungyoon snaps his head up, but Seunghoon is determinedly looking away from him, towards the other side of the road. “You could have been a little less obvious about it. I mean, no one could tell, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he assures at Seungyoon’s panicked look, “but that was part of the problem.”  
  
Seungyoon wants to disagree. He’s still friends with the both of them, the break up was an amicable one, it was hard to be around them sometimes, can you blame him? All fair reasons, but none of them sound like the one Seunghoon wants to hear.  
  
A blur moves past them, and for a second Seungyoon thinks it’s a rabid dog, until he sees Minho lying splayed on the road like a starfish. Seungyoon is about the scream at him  _”What the hell do you think you’re doing?”_  until there’s a long, extended  _BEEEEEEP_  and a large white pick-up truck skids to a stop, a metre away from turning Minho into roadkill.  
  
The driver pokes his head out the window, and it’s Minho’s luck that the guy looks like everyone’s friendly grandfather. If it was Seungyoon face down on the gravel, he would probably have looked like every generic slasher film villain to exist. “What are you doing, you dumb kid?” he scolds, honking again.  
  
It takes Jinwoo doing his best doe-eyes and Seunghoon coming close to tears for him to trust that they aren’t highway robbers. Then Seungyoon is lying down on the back of a pickup truck, head resting on a bag of potatoes, managing to catch a cabbage Minho throws at him just before it hits his chest. He makes a show of leaping up, about to smack Taehyun in the face with it, before stopping and gently bopping it on his head instead.  
  
Taehyun shifts from where he’s leaning against a pile of radishes. “You know,” he begins, “we still have another 6 hours to go, if we get bored, garlics are actually flamma–”  
  
“No,” they all say at once.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**DAY 2 — 05:30PM: JINWOO**  
  
  
The truck drops them off to the edge of the city, and from there they take a bus to Seunghoon’s old roommate’s house. Jinwoo is about to knock on the front door until he hears a grunt next to him and sees Seunghoon straddling Minho’s shoulders, hand inside the pot of a hanging plant. When Seunghoon takes his hand out, it’s smeared completely in dirt, with a grimy silver key held between his thumb and forefinger.  
  
“Why do people tell you where they keep their keys?” Seungyoon asks, as they follow Seunghoon to the back of the duplex. “You’ve proved more than once you can’t be trusted.”  
  
They keep walking until they get to a line of garages at the back. Seunghoon scans them all briefly, his eyes lighting up when they land at the one at the very end. He rushes forward, key in hand, and Jinwoo runs to follow.  
  
“It’s so big!” Jinwoo breathes in awe, running a hand against the pale blue paint. “This is so cool, it’s yours?”  
  
Seunghoon nods, unlocking the door and climbing into the front seat. “Yep!” he says, running a hand over the steering wheel in reverence. “God, I missed my baby, but I couldn’t take it with me all the way to college, and Jackson wanted to keep it to drive his band around in.”  
  
“It’s awesome!” Jinwoo exclaims.  
  
“Seunghoon,” Taehyun says, walking towards them in mild horror. “Do you have a family we don’t know about? Is that why you own a soccer mom van?”  
  
Seunghoon gasps, leaning over to spread his arms over the dashboard in what Jinwoo supposes is meant to be a hug. Jinwoo does the same to the right door. “Don’t listen to him, baby,” Seunghoon whispers, “He’s a bad man, just got out of juvie–”  
  
“I was provoked and let out on a warning,” Taehyun growls.  
  
Seungyoon kicks the front wheels, watching Minho trying and failing to pull open the left door. “Was this thing built in 198-”  
  
“It’s a 1995 Dodge!” Seunghoon cuts him off. “And what are you doing Minho, is that how you treat a woman?” Seunghoon jumps out of the front seat to shove Minho away from the door. He grabs the handle and yanks, but it doesn’t budge. He wipes his hands on his jeans and tries again; same result, except this time there’s a small snap.  
  
Seunghoon crosses his arms and huffs. “Okay, you know what,” he says after a beat, “Everyone just get in through Jinwoo’s side.”  
  
“The mission begins?” Jinwoo asks, determined.  
  
Seunghoon looks up at nothing in particular. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “The mission has already begun.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**DAY 3 — 12:17AM: MINHO**  
  
  
Being part of an underground rap crew means that Minho has been questioned by the police more often than he’d like to admit to his mother or sister. Nothing major, just officers coming by on sparse occasions, asking if he knew of Pyo’s whereabouts. The routine was the same, Minho would deny everything, wish them good luck, close the door, and then run to his room and crawl under his bed to where Pyo was hiding, and give him an all-clears signal.  
  
The point is, being in Pyo’s position is a different, off-kilter, feeling altogether. It’s a feeling that has him cold to the tips of his toes, one that makes him think he’ll never know love again, isn’t even sure if real goodness exists. The policeman behind him, Officer Chaerin, nudges him with the end of her baton to make him move, and Minho trudges forward, towards people who were once his friends, but now feel like distant memories of happier times.  
  
“Are you okay?” Jinwoo asks, mouth twisted in concern. Ah, Jinwoo. So beautiful, so lustrous. Minho had broken him, probably. He hadn’t realised it back then, but it’s true. There’s a darkness inside of Minho and it had taken Jinwoo’s kind, innocent soul, and twisted–  
  
“He’ll be fine,” Chaerin says, grabbing Minho’s shoulder and shaking him roughly. Minho whimpers. “Okay, so it’s an all clear and we have the paperwork that the car is indeed yours, Mr. Lee.”  
  
“I told you!” Seunghoon jumps up before Seungyoon tugs him back down again. Seunghoon. Poor Seunghoon. So full of life and vivacity, it had been his impassioned spirit that had brought them all here, united under the umbrella of justice. As it is, the world is a storm, blustering and violent–  
  
"Minho, seriously, you’re starting to freak me out,” Seungyoon says, clicking his fingers in front of Minho's face.  
  
“I’m fine,” Minho replies, “Just… dead inside”  
  
“ _Anyway_ ,” Chaerin continues. “There’s still an old man who is in the hospital because of  _trauma_ ,” Minho swallows guiltily. “And I don’t know why.”  
  
“We told you everything!” Seungyoon promises, putting his hands up. “You can even call up people to check our stories.”  
  
“You told me too much,” Chaerin says. “ _Way too much_ ,” she mutters under her breath. “I’m not saying you’re lying, I’m just saying you’re leaving something out. There’s a man in the hospital, a breaking and entering charge, and I still don’t actually know why you guys are here.” She closes her manila folder, tucking it under her arm, and narrows her eyes at the five of them. “So, who here wants to wrap this case up for me?”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**DAY 2 — 10:30PM: TAEHYUN**  
  
  
They’d arrived at the house a good two hours past their estimated arrival time, the suburban quietness of the streets somehow more disorientating than the city’s tangled roads and intersections. Once they were finally there, it was no question about who’d lead the breaking and entering mission, but it was Minho who truly suffered when Taehyun chose him as the most reliable accomplice of the lot.  
  
Taehyun is questioning that decision now. They haven’t even entered the garden yet, but Minho is so rattled that Taehyun’s beginning to feel second hand nervousness, and also first hand regret at letting himself be roped into this situation in the first place. Thankfully, the past two days spent in stuffy cars, humdrum motels, and the most mundane highway known to man, all become worth it as the gears in the lock click, and Taehyun grins as the gate swings wide open for them.  
  
“Good job,” Minho congratulates, clapping his back. “Does it feel good? Not using your powers for evil?”  
  
“It does,” Taehyun surmises, closing the gate quietly once they’re both through it. “But I could be doing this because I was trying to murder Seungyoon in his sleep and it’d still feel good.”  
  
Taehyun is careful, treads quietly over the grass and avoids anything that looks like it might make noise. He wonders if all that care is even worth it, however, since every single footstep Minho makes is accompanied by a natural disaster of some kind.  
  
“Are you wearing metal shoes?” Taehyun hisses. “Why are your feet  _clanging_.”  
  
“I didn’t see the watering can, okay!” Minho cries. He takes another step, onto a concrete pathway and there’s an even louder clang. “I can’t get it off without making more noise.”  
  
Once they manage to free Minho’s foot from the watering can, they’re back to searching the backyard they’d infiltrated. It’s clean, nicely kept, with a garden fountain in the middle of it, curved flower beds decorated with roses and lantanas, shrubs in the shape of different animals, but unfortunately– nothing else.  
  
“I don’t think she’s here,” Minho says.  
  
“Should we look inside?” Taehyun suggests, already thinking of ways to break into the house.  
  
“I feel like that’s probably not a good idea.”  
  
Taehyun disagrees, but before he can tell Minho this, there’s a bright light shining into his eyes making him stumble backwards.  
  
“Well,” a familiar, nasally voice says. “If it isn’t two of my least favourite students.”  
  
“Run!” Minho yells, grabbing the watering can and throwing it at the fence to cause a distraction. He bolts back towards the gate with Taehyun following close behind. They can hear footsteps behind them, slower, but steady and persistent.  
  
“Yang saw our faces,” Minho wheezes. “We’re screwed.”  
  
“It doesn’t matter!” Taehyun snaps, hitting Minho’s back to make him run faster. “Let’s just get out of here.”  
  
Seunghoon is waiting for them outside the dodge, perking up when they come into view. “Well?”  
  
“She’s not there.” Taehyun feels something like sympathy stir in his stomach when Seunghoon’s face falls. He doesn’t have time to consider the implications of him  _softening_  though, so he pushes past Seunghoon and clambers into the drivers seat. “We need to get out of here, he’s after us.”  
  
Seunghoon opens his mouth, but then there’s Yang’s voice, drawling: “You guys can run away, but I hope you don’t equate it to getting away, or else you’ll be sorely disappointed.”  
  
“Fuck,” Seunghoon swears, jumping into the backseat, and as a result, across Seungyoon and Minho’s lap.  
  
Seungyoon grunts. “Sit next to Taehyun instead, why are there four people in the back–”  
  
“No time!” Seunghoon interrupts, he leans over to yell into Taehyun’s ear. “Get us out of here!”  
  
Taehyun looks backwards and starts reversing out of the driveway, heart pounding in his chest. “I’m sorry, Seunghoon,” he apologises. “I know this whole trip was for her and now it’s pointless–”  
  
“Are you daft? I mean, sure it was for her but it wasn’t pointless.” He throws himself back onto Seungyoon, who groans. “I mean look around, when was the last time the five of us were together like this–”  
  
“You’re really doing this now?” Seungyoon says, voice muffled by the material of Seunghoon’s sweater.  
  
“ _Of course_  I’m doing it now,” Seunghoon proclaims. “That was the perfect opening.”  
  
“I’m just saying we’re reversing at like, 0.1 kilometres per hour and Yang is–” Jinwoo places a finger against Seungyoon’s lip, shaking his head, and Seungyoon sighs in resignation. “Fine,” he concedes, “Use me as your literal soap box.”  
  
“Gladly,” Seunghoon punctuates this by leaning even further back so his shoulder is pressed right into Seungyoon’s face. “I brought the five of you here because I’m really sick of everyone being too busy worrying over themselves to think about each other. Look, we’re growing up, things change, we’re in different places. But you don’t have to go through that on your own, alright.” Seunghoon swipes a hand through his hair. “I just needed to remind myself, remind the rest of you that– although we didn’t become friends under the best circumstances, even though sometimes things happen and it feels like we’re hardly friends anymore. When worse comes to worst, we’ll always be there for each other.”  
  
Seungyoon manages to wriggle his head and hands free and pushes Seunghoon away so he can speak. “That’s good and all, but you do know I’m overdue on a 20 percent assessment–”  
  
“Come on!” Minho cries, punching his shoulder. Jinwoo shakes his head, and even Taehyun feels justified in saying, “Why do you have the be so pretentious all the time?”  
  
“You of all people shouldn’t–”  
  
“If you’re just going to stay parked in my driveway,” Yang says, watching them from his lawn with mild disinterest. “Why don’t I just call the police over here? Honestly, Taehyun, what would your mother say when she hears about this.”  
  
Taehyun freezes. He can feel Seunghoon's hands rubbing circles into the sides of his neck, but he can’t hear anything that’s not Yang’s words playing over, and over, and over, again in his head.  
  
“Taehyun,” Seungyoon calls warily, but it sounds distant and faraway. Taehyun’s fingers curl tighter around the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. “Taehyun, don’t do it.”  
  
“Fuck.” Taehyun shifts the car back into drive. Yang straightens up, surprised but amused, a small smirk making itself known. Taehyun wants to wipe that look of his face. “You,” he growls, pressing his foot down on the accelerator.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**DAY 3 — 12:30AM: SEUNGYOON**  
  
  
“I didn’t even hit him!” Taehyun insists. “I was going at 5 kilometres per hour and swerved. I ended up hitting his mailbox.”  
  
“Hyun Suk Yang is in the hospital from  _shock_ ,” Chaerin says, shaking her folder in his face. “You do know that, right?”  
  
“He’s always been kind of overdramatic,” Seungyoon defends. “We all had him for our Business 101 elective last year, literally the most pointless class of our lives.”  
  
“Spent the entire semester telling us we didn’t have the right vibe and we almost failed,” Seunghoon adds.  
  
Chaerin doesn’t seem so sure, but thankfully her colleague, the one who'd interrogated Seunghoon and Seungyoon – spending every other minute stopping them so he could share a tangentially related anecdote from his youth, or asking them if they wanted to see a magic trick with handcuffs – Officer Seungri, walks through the door. Seungyoon has to rub his eyes when he sees who he’s holding in his hands.  
  
“Chaerin,” he says. “The guys found this thing hiding in the corner of Yang’s backyard, it’s name tag says–”  
  
“Lee H _ee_!” Seunghoon squeals, arms shooting out straight towards the short haired chihuahua that’s struggling to escape from Seungri’s hold.  
  
“Yeah…” Seungri ignores the grabbing motions Seunghoon makes with his hands. “It also says  _if lost return to Seunghoon Lee._ ”  
  
“I’m Seunghoon,” Seunghoon cuts in. “I’m Seunghoon Lee, give her here.”  
  
Seungri looks hesitant, he turns towards Chaerin, who exhales exasperatedly and nods. Seungri passes Lee Hee into Seunghoon’s arm, and Seunghoon looks like he might just cry.  
  
“Hey there, cutie,” Seungyoon baby talks, scratching underneath Lee Hee’s chin. “I don’t know if it’s the lack of sleep but she finally looks cute to me now.”  
  
“She was always cuter than you,” Seunghoon retorts, voice watery.  
  
“Do I want to know why your pet dog was with your University lecturer,” Chaerin inquires warily, opening her manila folder again. “Because you do know that’s another can of worms altoge–”  
  
“He took her away from me!” Seunghoon cries, holding Lee Hee tight against his chest, eyes darting around the room daring anyone to try and take her away from him. “He said he wouldn’t give her back until after finals, so that way I had something to work towards. But he left with her before I even finished that last exam.”  
  
Chaerin doesn’t look very impressed, but she lets them go with a hefty fine for property damage that Taehyun begrudgingly offers to pay 30 percent of. Seunghoon takes responsibility for another 50 percent, and the other 20 is split between Minho, Jinwoo, and Seungyoon. A price Seungyoon would rather spend on a new guitar, but frankly he’s relieved he isn’t in jail right now.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**-265 DAYS — 01:00PM: JINWOO**  
  
  
Jinwoo doesn’t understand baseball.  
  
Seungyoon’s spent the better half of thirty minutes trying to explain it to him, using their phones and an old piece of gum he’d found in his pocket as props, but half an hour later Jinwoo still feels confident in saying he  _really_  doesn’t understand baseball. He thinks back to his small dorm room, desk cluttered with lecture notes, tabs looking into postgraduate studies and internship opportunities loaded onto his laptop, and realises that he doesn't really care about not understanding baseball either.  
  
He does care about Seungyoon, though. Jinwoo’s insides have been knotted since the last semester of his senior year started, the idea of so much time passing and the bleak prospects of his future amalgamating into days spent just sitting alone in his dorm room. Watching whatever was popular on television and turning down almost all invitations to go out. Seungyoon had seemed eager though, pretty much knocked down his door telling Jinwoo about how cool his friend Minho was, and how they could go to the new Japanese restaurant that opened down the road from the baseball field, and how Seungyoon would even pay if the game was that unbearable. Truth be told, Seungyoon really hadn’t had to do anything more than smile and ask, but who’s Jinwoo to say no to free food.  
  
Seungyoon’s now realised that Jinwoo will never, really, understand or care about baseball and is tapping out a tune on Jinwoo’s thighs using their phones. Jinwoo adds in some impromptu beatboxing that he’d learnt off a Youtube video, and Seungyoon keels over in laughter on Jinwoo’s lap just as the crowd starts cheering.  
  
“What?” Jinwoo looks around. “What was that?”  
  
“They’re cheering for your rhythm,” Seungyoon answers, pulling himself upright in his seat again. “Just kidding, they got a homerun.”  
  
“Oh,” Jinwoo blinks. Then he smiles and pumps his fist in the air. “Yay!”  
  
“Yay!” Seungyoon imitates, doing a little cheer.  
  
It’s not so bad, company. But halfway through the seventh inning Jinwoo realises that it’s not enough to compensate for an empty stomach. He takes off his snapback to rest it on top of Seungyoon’s bowler hat and says, “Hey, I’m going to go get some snacks, okay?”  
  
Seungyoon nods, adjusting Jinwoo’s snapback so the brim is facing the back. “Now I’m hip,” he announces. Jinwoo chuckles and is about to go when Seungyoon stops him with a “ _Wait!_ ”  
  
Jinwoo cocks his head to the side. “Hm?”  
  
Seungyoon looks nervous, taking both hats off his head so he can run a hand through his hair. “I, um.” He looks towards the field contemplative, biting his lip. “Uh, about lunch, can we–”  
  
Jinwoo makes a small ‘o’ with his mouth, what’s making Seungyoon so antsy suddenly clicking in his head, and he laughs. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to pay. I’m older, I’ll make it my treat.”  
  
Seungyoon opens his mouth, and then slumps down into his seat. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.” Jinwoo still feels unsettled, a small part inside of him screaming that he’s missing something, but he gives Seungyoon a placating smile before heading up the stairs towards the snack kiosk.  
  
It sounds like they’re announcing the next batter, the one Jinwoo remembers thinking had a cute butt, when something tugs in Jinwoo’s stomach. It pulls everything tight, sharpens his intuition, and makes him stop in the middle of the stairs and turn around slowly.  
  
Seungyoon’s anxious face, his fingers carefully tracing the lines on the inside of Jinwoo’s snapback, is the last thing Jinwoo sees before there’s a loud crack and everything goes black.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**DAY 3 — 01:00AM: SEUNGYOON**  
  
  
“Reunited, once again!” Seunghoon bellows, holding Lee Hee up in the air as they walk back towards their car. “I can’t believe she’s finally back.” Minho starts yipping at Lee Hee from next to Seunghoon, moving his hand back and forth to try and provoke her into a high five.  
  
Seungyoon is looking at the ground, absently kicking around a small pebble, when he hears someone slow down to walk beside him. Seungyoon watches their shadows play with each other on the concrete. Thinks they look pretty good together.  
  
“You okay?” Seungyoon asks, watching his shadow nudge Jinwoo’s.  
  
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Jinwoo’s shadow shrugs. Seungyoon lifts his head up to give him a disbelieving look and Jinwoo grins sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “Okay, sorry, I know you told me not to pull stuff like that anymore.”  
  
Just a week ago Seungyoon had been staring down at his phone, waiting for Jinwoo to answer one of his texts, all variations of the same theme.  _’Everything alright?’_ ,  _’I’m sorry about Minho, it wasn’t either of your faults.’_ ,  _Just let me know if you need anything._. Jinwoo hadn’t even bothered with variety and replied to each one with a succinct,  _’Sure :)’_. Now it feels like there are more weeks between then and now, than there were kilometres travelled in the last two days. He owes Lee Hee at least a year’s supply of free dog treats for that, except Seunghoon already spends more on the Lee Hee’s food than he does his own, so maybe he’ll just get her a nice collar.  
  
“Hey, listen,” Seungyoon begins, coming to a complete stop on the footpath. Jinwoo notices and halts, shoots Seungyoon a nonplussed look as he walks backwards.  
  
“What is it?” Jinwoo looks worried, and as usual, that’s always the last thing Seungyoon wants.  
  
“No, it’s nothing,” Seungyoon assures, he pulls up his best smile, the half-there one Jinwoo loves imitating when he’s drunk. “I just– I don’t really like seeing you down, and Seunghoon is right– just because things are changing, it doesn’t mean we’re on our own.” He clears his throat, feeling embarrassed and not knowing why. He isn’t doing this for any reason except for the fact that, regardless of anything, Jinwoo is and always will be first and foremost, a friend he cares more deeply about than anyone. “It’s not anything huge, but the Producer I’m interning for, his software is always super buggy and–”  
  
Jinwoo claps a hand over Seungyoon’s mouth. “Before you say anything,” he warns. “Stop.”  
  
Seungyoon pulls away Jinwoo’s hand. “Huh, why? I’m not doing it because I feel sorry for you, it’s just because I’m your friend and–”  
  
“No, no,” Jinwoo shakes his head. “I want you to stop so you don’t think that, you thinking of me, or going out of your way to find me a job, is the reason I’m about to do this.”  
  
_About to do what?_  is on the tip of Seungyoon’s tongue, when Jinwoo leans up to press his lips against his, and he gets his answer in the best way possible.  
  
Seungyoon’s seen Jinwoo kissing different people for a lot of different reasons. Has witnessed casual goodbye pecks, accidentally walked in on lazy making out in bed, and has had to intervene in the middle of drunk, sloppy kisses when Jinwoo’s had too much to drink. It's hard to think about for too long, but passively, or maybe not so passively, Seungyoon’s always thought Jinwoo looked like a good kisser.  
  
He gets an affirmation now, with Jinwoo’s fingers in his hair, tongue licking at the seam of Seungyoon’s mouth, and he goes back to the morning two days ago, Jinwoo outside his window whispering  _”let me in”_. Seungyoon opens his mouth, sucks on Jinwoo’s bottom lip, and thinks back to what a ridiculous statement that is, considering he’s spent the four years he’s known Jinwoo looking in from the outside. He cups the back of Jinwoo’s neck to tilt his head back and deepen the kiss, and it feels like he’s been waiting his entire life to let Jinwoo in.  
  
When Jinwoo pulls away, he looks content, satisfied, and Seungyoon feels something burn in his chest at the thought that he put that expression there. “Thank you,” Jinwoo says, kissing Seungyoon quickly on the mouth again. “We’ll talk about it later, yeah?”  
  
Seungyoon nods dumbly. “Yeah,” he says, barely there as Jinwoo interlaces their fingers together and they resume walking. “Wait,” Seungyoon blurts out, realisation slowly dawning on him. “You knew,” he says, mostly to himself, face going red at the epiphany. “How did you know?”  
  
Jinwoo doesn’t look at him, but the smug smile is obvious just from the side. “I’m not an idiot,” he replies. “I just pretend to be, sometimes.”

**Author's Note:**

> (the title of this fic hurts me more than it does anyone else)


End file.
